The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying wood. The abandoned church, Hawkbone’s self-proclaimed sanctuary, stood like a forgotten relic against the silver glow of the moon. Its walls, weathered and cracked, whispered tales of those who once sought solace within them.

Rose sat on the wooden fence outside, her posture still, her gaze distant. The world around her felt empty, void of meaning, just like the hollow space in her chest.

Hawkbone watched her ...